


One More Light

by seekrest



Series: Merry and Bright [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: (if you squint), (well some comfort), Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt Peter Parker, Peter Parker Deserves Better, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, inspired by The Little Match Girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21736480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekrest/pseuds/seekrest
Summary: Peter shivered as the snow fell, rubbing his hands together as he ducked out of Delmar’s and walked down the street.He put his hands in his pockets, feeling the keychain he’d bought. Tony had jokingly messed with him about it - asking for a bodega owner to hold a keychain for him when he could buy the entire company.Peter had smiled, waving as he headed out the door. It’s the same smile he has on his face now, a feeling of contentment washing over him that Peter hadn’t felt in a long time.It’d been a great day - probably one of the better ones he’s had, even if it was by all accounts ordinary.Now, walking down the street it was almost idyllic, the snow on the ground reflecting off the lights, flurries coming down and the lack of cars giving Peter time to be alone with his thoughts.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Merry and Bright [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559587
Comments: 46
Kudos: 143





	One More Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blondsak](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondsak/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to my angsty queen! Is it really Christmas if I don't kill my darling at least once? :)

Peter shivered as the snow fell, rubbing his hands together as he ducked out of Delmar’s and walked down the street. 

He put his hands in his pockets, feeling the keychain he’d bought - already smiling at the look of surprise May would have when he got home, not just for showing up earlier than he’d planned but for what he’d called ahead for - a little Santa that he asked Delmar to hold for him.

Tony had jokingly messed with him about it - asking for a bodega owner to hold a _keychain_ for him when he could buy the entire company. 

But Peter had been insistent, laughing that it was a surprise that he knew May would love - explaining how picking up Christmas keychains had been an old habit of Ben’s. 

The look in Tony’s eyes had shifted when he’d said that, almost softer as he waved him off to head home early. 

“You sure you don’t want Happy to drive you kid?” Tony had asked, seeing him glance out the window - grabbing a StarkPad to no doubt see how badly it was going to snow.

“It’s fine, Mr. Stark. Besides,” Peter had said, wrapping his scarf around his neck, “I don’t trust him to keep it a surprise from May. For being head of security, he’s really a _terrible_ secret keeper.”

Tony had laughed, Peter smiling and waving as he headed out the door. It’s the same smile he has on his face now, a feeling of contentment washing over him that Peter hadn’t felt in a long time.

It’d been a great day - probably one of the better ones he’s had, even if it was by all accounts ordinary.

Grabbing coffee with MJ first thing, studying for an exam and kissing her goodbye before he went out for patrol - the feel of her lips against his warming his heart up more than the suit’s heaters.

Patrol itself had been relatively quiet, stopping yet another grand theft bicycle and helping several tourists with directions. By the time he’d arrived at the lab with Tony, Peter had a bunch of pent-up energy - ready to tackle whatever project Tony wanted to throw at him.

Even time at the lab went well - no explosions, no major issues - a nice day, getting to chat with Tony about college and how betrayed Tony would feel if Peter went to Harvard instead - something that Peter had no intention of doing, as much as he liked to tease Tony for it. 

Now, walking down the street - it’s almost idyllic, the snow on the ground reflecting off the lights, flurries coming down and the lack of cars giving Peter time to be alone with his thoughts. 

Peter wonders when he could last remember a night in the city ever feeling so peaceful - though part of it may have been that he couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually walked home rather than swing. 

If it wasn’t so cold, he might’ve - though the idea of doing a quick change in an alley somewhere just so he could go into Delmar’s didn’t sound appealing. 

And even if Peter knew Delmar would save the silly keychain for him for as long as possible, he wanted it to be a genuine surprise - knowing May wouldn’t expect him to be home for another hour since it was a lab day.

The quiet and calm wasn’t meant to be for long, Peter’s senses going haywire as he crosses an alley - turning to hear a muffled scream. 

He turns without thinking, eyes adjusting to the darkness to two men - a taller man in a dark beanie cowering over the other, holding the smaller with one by his shirt. 

He can hear their whispers as he walks up to them, the whimpering of the smaller man as the other says, “You make us run for you again and you’ll have hell to pay.”

“Hey!” Peter yells out, something he instantly regrets as he watched the taller man face towards him - seeing the glint of the gun in his hand.

Time moves in slow motion, Peter’s mind racing he figures out the best way to disarm him without setting off alarm bells. He wasn’t in the suit, he looked like a kid - and even if Peter wasn’t going to allow anyone to get hurt, he knew it’d be a pain to try and track some idiot down if he ran off.

“This ain’t your business, kid. Move along.” The taller man says, his voice gruff and filled with the kind of malice that Peter instantly recognizes. There’s a look in his eye that stops him cold, something Peter’s seen time and time again.

It’s a look of someone who knows what they’re doing, who’s killed before and would have no problem doing it again. Peter sets his jaw firm as he stares, wishing he had the facade of the mask so he could end this quickly - knowing on instinct that this wasn’t a man who was to he messed with.

“Whatever your business is,” Peter begins, balling his hands at his sides, “probably not the best way to solve any issues when you have a gun in your face. I know I hate talking when--”

“Shut up and move on.” The taller man snarls, but doesn’t loosen his grip - Peter’s eyes flitting down to the trigger, seeing how the man’s hands didn’t move from its position.

Peter had to think fast, knowing he’d never be able to live with himself if he let another person die in a dark alleyway near Christmas, not if he could help it. 

“Look, man—“

“Fuck off, kid. Don’t make me tell you twice.” The man aims the gun at his chest, Peter’s hands immediately lifting in surrender - seeing the steely glare in his eyes, his own hardening even as a chill of terror runs down his spine.

This isn’t a game, the man in front of him looks focused - as if shooting Peter would be a mild inconvenience at best. But Peter’s senses start to go haywire, hearing the car arrive before it does as he turns.

“I said _move along_.” Three more men exit of the vehicle, a nondescript van that just sets Peter further on edge - feeling the panic of the man pressed against the wall, hearing the pleading in his voice as he says, “Man, come on just let me go. Don’t hurt the kid, I can pay—“

“Shut up.” The taller man growls, Peter eyeing his surroundings - calculating how to take them down, thinking at this point that he’d just enlist Tony’s help if anyone ran off before he could catch him. 

Peter couldn’t allow them to take the smaller guy out of this alley, knowing in that way he knows anything that it won’t end well for him if he does.

But then they start to crowd around him, his fight or flight instinct seemingly kicking in - the familiar itch in the back of Peter’s neck screaming at him as he takes a step forward, just as the other guy starts to squirm.

Peter’s eyes are so focused on the taller man, holding down the other - maybe that’s why he missed it, so focused on the pleas and the terror emanating off of him. 

“Don’t take me, don’t take me, please man—“

“Hey, let him go. Don’t—“

Peter feels it before he hears it, a hot, burning pain in his chest as the gunshot reverberates throughout the empty alleyway. It’s immediate, a searing ache that almost doubles him over, falling backwards into the snow as he gasps, trying to make sense of what happened.

He should’ve caught it, Peter’s dodged plenty of bullets before - but the fear in the other man’s eyes, the terror of the situation sent him straight back two years ago, when the person he loved most in the world had intervened where he shouldn’t have, putting himself between a guy with a gun when Peter should’ve been the one to stop it.

It was just a second of being distracted, two seconds of being so focused on someone else that he missed it. But it was enough, wheezing as he blinks up at the sky. 

He can hear the scuffle from the other guys, a pained cry from what he assumes is the smaller man saying something only for him to be hit - hearing the gruff voice of the other saying, “You see what you did? Should’ve came quietly, Lawson. Now you got a kid’s blood on your hands.”

Peter wheezes, the pain so blinding that he can hardly think - blinking rapidly as his hand reaches for his cell-phone in his pocket, only for his hand to be stopped by the sharp pressure of a boot - seeing the cold-eyed stare of one of the men from the van hovering over him.

“Who’s this?” He asks, Peter gasps - feeling like he can’t catch his breath as another voice rings out, closing his eyes as he tries to focus.

“Ain’t nobody. Kid who should’ve went home when he was told to.”

Peter feels the cool metal of the gun against his forehead, opening his eyes in a panic as he tries to move. 

He can’t - his lungs, his chest - everything aches, screaming in pain as he tries to breathe - the act of it becoming more and more difficult as the other man’s voice rings out.

“Want me to finish it?”

He sees the taller man hover him now, kneeling down as he searches Peter’s pockets - the gun from the other man’s hand still pressed against his forehead. He takes out the Santa keychain, his wallet and his cellphone - throwing the Santa to the side but taking the rest, shaking his head as he stares at Peter.

“Nah. Boss’ll be pissed if we’re late.” He goes to stand, the gun that was pressed so hard against his forehead that he’s sure it’ll leave a bruise lifted, only to almost smirk as he says, “Besides, if the kid survives the night, this’ll teach him to do what he’s told.”

Peter opens his mouth to say something - though what his brain isn’t supplying - only to cough, feeling blood in his mouth as the men laugh.

“Don’t sound like he will, Wilson.”

Whatever Wilson says, Peter doesn’t hear it - his eyes shifting towards the sky, the snow still falling down as the men move away from him. 

He hears them get into the van, the turn of the motor and the squeal of tires as they drive away - but Peter’s focused immediately on the pain in his chest, getting the distinct feeling that they were right.

That this would be a night he wouldn’t survive. 

* * *

Peter had been shot enough times in his stint as a superhero - much to the chagrin of nearly everyone around him - that he had a good enough handle on how to assess injuries, what his body was capable of and how much he could take before things got bad.

This was bad, in every sense of the word - Peter starting to feel almost dizzy as he considers the ramifications of what his impulsive decision to walk into the alleyway would be.

His cell phone was gone. May wasn’t expecting him for an hour or more and Tony wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, though there was the slight hope that he might be concerned if he didn’t hear from him soon - letting Tony know he made it home. 

MJ might text him, as she randomly did at all hours - but even if she did and he didn’t answer, it wouldn’t be cause for concern - probably assuming as everyone else did that he was fine.

And he was usually - Peter was always fine, no matter what happened or what he faced, he always made it home. 

But Peter could feel the pain in his chest start to increase, a tightening that could only signify that his lungs were working in overdrive - if they were still working right at all, wondering if one of them had collapsed for how difficult it was to breathe.

Peter closes his eyes, listening for people around him but can’t hear anything - though how much of it was because of the sound of his own heart - working double time as the blood leaked out of his chest drowned out everything else - he didn’t know.

What Peter did know, trying to call out for help only to be cut off by the blood in his throat, coughing it up as he sank his head further into the snow - is that aside from being shot and bleeding out in a cold, dark alleyway that he’d still failed.

Peter had only wanted to protect the man from being taken. 

But he was gone.

And now Peter wondered how long it would be before he was also. 

* * *

_I’m going to die_. 

It’s not the first time Peter’s ever thought that, but it is the first time he’s ever wondered if it might be true - his wheezing starting to get more desperate as the snow lightly falls down onto his face, blinking away the snow flakes - unaware if it was the flakes melting or tears running down his cheeks as he struggled to breathe. 

His first thought immediately goes to May, imagining her in their small and cramped kitchen, no doubt burning the holiday cookies she told Peter she was going to make for her office party. Peter can hardly breathe but he wants to laugh, thinking of their earlier conversation.

* * *

_“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Peter dodged the oven mitt she threw at him, laughing as he packed his bag on his way to meet MJ._

_“It’s fine, Pete, I got this. I have all day.” May squinted as she read the recipe on her phone, Peter trying to hold back more laughter as he zipped up his bag._

_“Do we even have all the ingredients?”_

_“Did you not just hear me say I have all day? What do you think I do when you’re not around?” May rolls her eyes, grinning back at Peter as she puts her phone down. “Just wait around, twiddling my thumbs until you come home?”_

_Peter scoffs, “Obviously.” May laughs - a full-throated one that makes Peter smile even more, leaning in to the hug he gives May as he throws his backpack over his shoulder._

_“Larb you kiddo. Have fun today, I’ll see you tonight.”_

_“Larb you too.” Peter smiles once more, looking over his shoulder._

_“As long as you don’t burn down the apartment in the meantime.”_

_“Peter!”_

_He laughs, hearing her own sigh as he walks out the kitchen, through the living room and out the door._

* * *

The memory of May sends a sharp pain through his chest again, feeling the actual tears start to fall as he thinks of where she’ll be when she hears the news - knowing that it could be hours before anyone starts to suspect anything is wrong.

If Peter thought it had been cold earlier, he’s freezing now - his fingers and his toes starting to go numb as the pain in his chest deepens. 

It feels like his heart’s racing but he’s not sure how much of it is adrenaline or just the surge of blood rushing towards it because of the gaping wound in his chest, feeling like with every breath that more and more blood flows out of him. 

He’s starting to feel dizzy, thinking back to the last time he’d gotten shot - stumbling into MJ’s room during patrol, knowing he wouldn’t make it to the Tower in time. 

* * *

_“Fuck. Fuck. You’re a dumbass, you’re such a dumbass. Fuck.” Michelle was swearing so much that everything else just started to blur together, but Peter could hear the fear in her voice - pressing down on the wound on his leg as he winced, backed up against her bed._

_“MJ--”_

_“Don’t.” She cuts him off, Peter watching as she adjust hold, looking back into his eyes. “Call Stark. Now.”_

_“Can’t, he’s-- he’s not--”_

_“What? Is he dead? Dying? Cause otherwise, it’s not gonna matter. He’d fly across the planet for you, Peter. Call him. Now.” He knows Michelle is terrified for her to be so insistent on calling Tony first, knowing that they didn’t always get along._

_They’d seemed to have reached some kind of tentative agreement about each other - an understanding that neither of them would be going anywhere anytime soon. While neither Tony nor MJ got along as well as Peter would’ve liked, they still seemed to be united on one thing - keeping Peter safe._

_And that included, it seemed - having each other on speed dial, watching as Michelle groans in frustration as Peter just stares at her in a daze, grabbing her own phone from the floor as she tightens her grip on the wound on his thigh._

_“MJ--”_

_“Shut up, Peter. You’re not about to bleed out on my floor. Stark’ll pay for it but-- hello?”_

_He can hear Tony on the other line, leaning his head back on the bed as they talk back and forth. Peter must pass out for a moment because the next thing he knows, Michelle’s is shaking him awake - the panic clear in her voice._

_“Pete? Don’t-- don’t do that okay? Keep your eyes open.”_

_Peter smiled at her, nodding his head. “S’okay MJ. I’ll be okay.”_

_“You better.” Her words are harsh but her tone is not, Peter seeing the way her jaw is set and the way her eyes glisten - knowing it must be bad for his normally stoic girlfriend to be on the verge of tears._

_“I’m always okay.” Peter grins, feeling sleepy even as he forces his eyes open._

_“Remind me to get that in writing.” Michelle says, Peter hearing the waver in her laugh as he smiles._

* * *

Peter laughs to himself - he can’t breathe but he has to laugh so that the panic of what’s happening doesn’t overwhelm him- thinking that he never did give that message to her, glad in an ironic way that he hadn’t - not letting himself think of how MJ would react when…

It was hard to breathe, but even harder to think about - feeling death crawl over him just as viscerally as the pain in his chest started to overwhelm him, clouding out anything else except the dizzying pain. 

He thinks of Ned, knowing he would be devastated - Peter remembering how torn up he’d been the last time he got hurt. But was MJ that made his heart hurt - more than the gunshot even did - as his mind tried to decipher whether she’d be visibly emotional or shut down, feeling betrayed that another person in her life had sneaked their way into her heart only to leave. 

Peter starts to choke, coughing up more and more blood as his whole body shakes - knowing in the only way that someone who’s had too many brushes with death can recognize that there’s a timer running out that he won’t be able to stop. 

It reminds him of his dad, someone he never thinks about much - to his own guilt and detriment as he gasps, the cold making his breath mist as the snow falls on his face - closing his eyes as he conjures up a memory from years and years ago.

* * *

_“Come on, Petey. Are you ready?”_

_“Ready!” Peter exclaims, hands gripping the laundry basket as his mom laughed in the background, feeling his father’s presence behind him._

_“On your mark, get set, GO!” Peter squeals in excitement as Richard runs him across the carpet, the laundry basket serving as an imaginary go-kart, leaning into the curves and turns around the couch._

_“Are you boys hungry or are you too busy racing?”_

_“Racing!” Peter yells, only for Richard and Mary to laugh - Richard abruptly stopping as he picks Peter up, almost throwing him into the air._

_“Rich, careful, you don’t wanna--”_

_“What? Drop him?” Peter laughs, seeing the smile on his father’s face._

_“I’m never gonna let this kid go.”_

* * *

Peter can’t stop the tears now, mouth opening and closing as his breath hitches - his own vision blurring as he opens his eyes. 

His whole body is numb now, though Peter has a growing suspicion that it has less to do with the cold and everything to do with the pain in his chest - feeling less and less of it as the seconds roll by. 

Peter closes his eyes again, remembering when the roles had been reversed - holding Ben in his arms as he died, knowing now just how hard Ben must’ve fought to hold onto consciousness - feeling that even with his enhanced senses and healing that it was almost impossible to keep his eyes open. 

It’s a memory he doesn’t want to revisit, not now - not when he feels himself getting closer and closer to the edge of everything he’s ever known. 

He misses his parents. Misses Ben. In his darkest moments, when the pain of whatever scuffle he’d gotten into had been too painful, he’d wonder how easy it would be to just let go - to give in to the pull of going somewhere else. 

But unlike those moments, Peter doesn’t want to let go. Doesn’t want to succumb. He wants to live. He has to, thinking of all the people waiting for him. 

His head moves to the side, chest rising and falling in short spasms when he sees it - the Santa keychain that had brought him out here, half-nestled in the snow. 

It’s such a stupid thing to die for. A stupid thing that would almost fill him with regret, except for who it was for - and what that would mean for her, another Parker leaving her behind.

_I’m sorry, May._

_I’m so sorry._

* * *

_Yeah, keep scanning Fri, he should be somewhere around-- Oh God. Peter?_

Peter’s eyes are open even if he can start to feel his vision growing darker - the light from the street almost blinding as his eyes flutter - the pressure on his chest so heavy, he doesn’t even feel it’s moving. 

It’s cold, he knows it but he doesn’t feel it. Doesn’t feel anything, doesn’t even really feel himself at all. 

_God, no. No, no, no, Pete. This isn’t-- FRIDAY, is he--_

It reminds him so much of those moments in the medbay with Tony, sitting vigil by his bedside after a bad fight - equal parts pissed off and scared that he might not wake up.

* * *

_Peter comes to with a groan, hearing the shuffling on the other side of the room._

_“Wha-what happen’d?”_

_“Knocked in the head with a lightning bolt, kid. Funny since, you weren’t even supposed to be out in the first place.”_

_Peter sighs, wincing as he does so - feeling the throbbing pain in his head start to flare up. Tony’s immediately by his side, Peter opening his eyes to see as Tony’s eyes search his face._

_“How bad is it? Give me a number.”_

_Peter quickly debates with himself but the pain wins out, closing his eyes as he whispers, “Bout a six.”_

_Tony huffs, causing Peter to open his eyes as he taps something on his watch. “Probably means it’s really more of an eight. But since you just might have a guilt complex worse than my own, figures you’d lie about that too.”_

_“I wasn’t lying--”_

_“Like hell you weren’t, Pete.” The fear in so clear in Tony’s eyes that it makes Peter pause, seeing the way Tony’s jaw almost trembles._

_“You told me you were safe. Out of the way. On your way back home.”_

_“I was,” Peter begins, seeing the way Tony rolls his eyes as he continues, “but then I saw those kids and they might’ve gotten hurt and--”_

_“So what? You just throw yourself in front of them? Cap had it handled, kid. You-- you could’ve died.”_

_Peter shifts his eyes away, biting his lip. “But I didn’t.”_

_“This time.” Peter’s gaze shoots back to Tony’s, both of them hearing the words he doesn’t say - the ones Tony had said almost two years ago, after that disastrous ferry incident his sophomore year._

_“I’m okay, Mr. Stark.”_

_Tony holds his gaze, seeing the resolution in his eyes as he nods, nodding towards the door. “Yeah, you better be. May’s gonna have a fit when she gets here and she’ll want you running on all pistons when she does.”_

_Peter almost smiles, knowing it’s too soon but not being able to help it - seeing the concern mixed with something that felt like love in his eyes._

_“I thought it was your turn to yell at me. Since you’re here and all.”_

_“Don’t be such a smartass, Parker.” Peter laughs at that, seeing the slight upturn of Tony’s lips as he says, “This good-cop, bad-cop routine only works if you’re not in on it.”_

_“You’re such a dad, Mr. Stark.”_

_Tony laughs at that, Peter grinning as he says, “Not hard to be when I’m around you, kid.”_

* * *

It’s one final memory, one of the last ones Peter has - he can feel it, the timer running out before he’ll get the chance to see his family again. 

_Talk to me, Fri. Kid? Peter, come on. Look at me. Don’t do this, come on._

And that’s who they are - his family. May. Ned. MJ. Tony. 

_He’s sustained critical blood loss, boss._

The cold wraps around him almost like a blanket, the blinding light from the street light clouding anything else. 

_What the hell’s that supposed to mean to me? Peter, come on kid, look at me. Look at me, Pete. Come on you can do this. You can— just hold on okay? Call medical, tell them I’m on my way._

It’s impossible, so much light that he can’t really make sense of it - especially when his vision had started to darken like the alleyway around him, his chest barely rising and falling - the last whispers of an inhale.

_He has less than 1% chance of surviving transport boss. The damage is too severe._

Darkness and light all mix together, feeling the numbness crawl all over him as his breathing starts to slow. 

_Fuck this isn’t-- this isn’t happening. Come on, Pete. Look at me, don’t— don’t do this, kid, please. Stay with me, stay with me okay?_

But Peter’s not asleep, he’s dreaming - thinking of his dad, his mom and Ben. 

_I’m sorry, boss._

He wasn’t ready to see them, not yet - not when he had so much to live for. But there was a serenity that flowed over Peter, feeling everything else around him start to fade as the light overwhelms him.

_No, no this isn't-- come on, kid. Peter, please… Don’t do this. Don’t-- fuck, don’t leave yet come on._

It’s like the voices of everyone he loves are calling him home - thoughts and feelings and memories all swirling together as the light begins to fade, feeling his eyes close as his chest heaves. 

_No. No, no, no. Stay with me, Pete, please._

It feels just like falling, slipping off the edge of a building, letting the wind rush past him - feeling the energy of the world around him speeding so fast that it’s blurry - the warmth of the air on his face, a beacon guiding him home. 

_Please. Please, Peter. I’m right here, I’m right here okay?_

Peter thinks he hears something almost like sobbing, a sound that doesn’t make sense - not when there was so much _light_ surrounding him - so much love, voices and memories all swirling around as if he could taste them - a numbness that felt so full that it clouded out everything else and yet an explosion of everything he’s ever felt before, the edge of infinity all rushing past him in one brilliant second. 

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Pete. I should’ve— I’m here now, kid. I’m right here. Right here with you._

Peter can feel his chest heave, inhaling as a soft blue light pierces the darkness - a warmth washing over him, feeling that love cradle around him. 

_You’re okay. You’re— you’re gonna be okay. I’m right here, Pete. It’s okay. You’re okay._

And then he’s gone, letting himself fade gently into the light. 


End file.
